The Science of Souffles: A Love Story
by HIMluv
Summary: Wreav joined the Initiative to start a new life, a life beyond the petty squabbles of the Krogan fighting over Tuchanka. Kalla Pok joined to make up for a less than courageous past with the STG. But neither of them were prepared to have to work together. And they definitely didn't expect they'd ever come to enjoy it. Major OC fluff, minor spoilers for Mass Effect Andromeda.
1. Wreav

Wreav grinned at his reflection in the viewport glass. For nearly a millennium that grin struck fear in the hearts of Clan Urdnot's enemies, but in that moment it was just a grin. Despite the recent arrival the Nexus was still relatively quiet. In a few moments they would start the process of pulling people from cryostasis, but Wreav took the time to enjoy the knowledge that he was one of the first Krogan to lay eyes on their new home.

Andromeda.

"Urdnot Wreav, to cryobay mess," a feminine growl filtered through the station intercom. "Urdnot Wreav, to the cryobay mess."

Wreav sighed and gave the glittering stars and swirling nebulae one last hopeful glance before stomping off to his domain. Just like the rest of the station, it was time he got to work.

* * *

It happened by accident. If you asked, Wreav could tell you a dozen different ways to finish off Humans, Turians, Salarians, hell, even Asari. If you pissed him off, he'd be more than happy to demonstrate. But there was a distinct and resounding peace on the Nexus as she made the long trip to Andromeda, so when his three hundred year nap in cryostasis came to an end, he wasn't really sure what to do.

The Asari temporarily in Nexus Security politely refused his expertise in crushing skulls, and they insisted the Salarians, when they woke up, wouldn't want him anywhere near the Research and Development labs, even as a guard. Then, one day, a week or so after his rise from cryo, Nakmor Kesh found him wandering the wide empty halls of the station.

"Urdnot Wreav," her low voice ground out from her curling lips.

He nodded in the affirmative, eying the superintendent. She was shorter than him, as was to be expected, but she had an unmistakable air of authority. She was used to giving orders and expected they'd be followed. She tilted her head to him in acknowledment, the pale blue clan markings distinct against the gray leather of her skin.

"I have a job for you."

Wreav instantly felt a jolt of dread. Kesh was renowned for her no-nonsense approach to managing the Nexus. Things ran smoothly, or they didn't run at all. Add to it that Clan Nakmor had been nothing but trouble for Clan Urdnot back on Tuchanka and Wreav was doubtful that any job Kesh found for him would be pleasant.

But, she was his boss, so he nodded and fell into step behind her as she led the way through the station.

* * *

Every day since then Wreav thanked the Ancestors for Kesh's feminine intuition.

The hiss of hydraulics greeted him as the door slid back to let him enter the mess hall. Just then the large room was empty, tables and chairs standing at the ready for the time when it would overflow with hungry scientists and eager colonists. As he walked through the room Wreav shook out his hands. He felt anxious, itching for a weapon, like he did before a big fight.

"You're too old for nerves," he mumbled to himself as he walked through another automatic door and into the kitchen.

For all humanity had learned in the last 50 years, their kitchens were pretty standard. Lots of stainless steel and large machinery capable of roasting an entire Varren. There were even walk-in coolers big enough for him to turn around in, and his hump wouldn't even hit the ceiling!

With a deep breath Wreav set about the spacious kitchen and found the materials he'd need to greet the first colonists that left the cryobay. The first thing he found was the coffee. He'd need a lot of it, if his research proved correct. Humans, especially the ones that were just waking up, seemed to require the stuff. Personally, Wreav preferred to wake up to a shot of Ryncol, but to each their own he supposed.

Salarians, for instance, preferred a chemical concoction that had the sweet flavor of Khardamine fruit, but all the kick of human coffee. Not that Wreav thought the worms really needed it. Talked too fast as it was. And the Asari drank some ritual leaf steeped in hot water to start their mornings, accompanied with prayer, if they were devout. Seemed like rubbish to Wreav, but leave it the Asari to begin their day in meditation.

It'd been a long three hundred years spent in that kitchen, learning everything he could about who ate what. As he went through the motions of prepping each species' preferred morning meals, he felt the calm of confidence settle over him. But, it hadn't always been that way.

* * *

When Nakmor Kesh brought him to the cryobay mess hall, he laughed in her face. "I'm better suited to stabbing someone's gut than filling it."

She smiled indulgently. "Why did you join the Initiative, Wreav?" Of course, she already knew. She must have read his file a dozen times by then, knowing her.

He shrugged one heavy shoulder. "I figure I killed just about everything there is to kill in the Milky Way."

Kesh stared him down with one eye, her clan marked head inching toward him. It was a threat, one he would never have let happen on Tuchanka. But, he wasn't on Tuchanka anymore, and the Nexus, at least for now, belonged to Kesh.

"All right," he huffed. He looked around the empty mess, as if worried that someone might overhear them. "I'm tired of killing things, in general." He looked away from her hard stare, suddenly ashamed. "Almost a thousand years of blood is enough."

She stared at him a moment longer, then nodded. "That's what I thought."

"What? That Clan Urdnot can't even manage to keep up their bloodlust?" Wreav growled and stepped toward her, a much more aggressive threat than her earlier stare.

"Leave your prejudices in the Milky Way, Wreav," she snapped. "In Andromeda the Krogan can be so much more than puny clans scrapping over worthless pieces of land." She considered him before she spoke again. "That's why I joined. Because I believe that, here, the Krogan have a real chance to unify and find a new home. A new start." She gestured around the cafeteria. "That's what I'm offering you."

Wreav followed her hand and looked around the room. It was dim, empty, and reeked of stringent cleaner and metal. He looked back at her. "So, what? I'm to be a cook?"

"If that's what you want, sure." She shrugged. "But why stop there? You have three hundred years until we reach Andromeda and have someone to feed besides the Asari and the Krogan." She smiled at him, and for a moment Wreav thought he understood how his enemies must have felt when his grin was directed at them. "Imagine what you could accomplish in that time."

* * *

Wreav laughed at the memory. Kesh wasn't a subtle female. Then again, Krogan weren't known for their tact. For their quads in the face of battle, sure, but not their tact. Since that day, Wreav had spent his free time studying the Initiative's various cultures and how those cultures interacted with food. Avina, the Nexus VI, helped him by pulling up relevant vids and files, and the crew that elected to stay awake through the journey were subjected to his trial recipes.

As the years went on, Wreav found himself particularly interested in desserts. Each species approached confections differently, and they tended to be much more delicate than the heavy savory meals preferred by humans and krogans. This made them more challenging to master and that much more rewarding when they came out right. One Asari even said that he made a better slice of Illium cake than her mother did!

But, he knew he'd found his new purpose in Andromeda when staff began trickling into his mess hall even though it was multiple decks out of their way. Or when he heard voices raise in excitement when a particular favorite pastry was back on the menu. He'd even started to blend recipes, melding human cheesecake with Asari fruit glazes, or adding Salarian Sucralose powder to the airy beignets he'd finally perfected.

Wreav gazed around his kitchen, surveying the field before battle. That had all been practice. He'd spent the last three hundred years perfecting his craft, and breaking stereotypes while he was at it. But the real test was still ahead of him.

The Nexus was waking up.


	2. Kalla

Kalla Pok startled awake. There, on her right, a figure loomed. A light shone in her eyes. It was bright, too bright to make out a face. On instinct she brought up an arm, blocked the oncoming attack, and used her grip on the attacker to spin upright to stand behind them.

Then her legs gave out.

"Easy, Kalla," a soothing voice said from above her. Now that the light wasn't shining in her eyes she could make out the blue dappled skin of an Asari. White uniform, blue Andromeda Initiative logo on the sleeve. Ah. Kalla didn't struggle as the Asari doctor helped her to sit on the medbay bed.

"Did we make it?" She asked, her voice rushing from her. "Are we there?"

"Please, Pok, I need you to relax." The Asari let some agitation into her voice. "I need to check your vitals and make sure there are no lingering effects of the cryostasis."

Kalla waved the doctor's scanner away. "Am fine." She scanned the room and noted that three other Salarians sat on beds just like hers, their own Asari attendants pestering them. "Must know if all went to plan? Others are waking. Bodes well. Was the trajectory correct? Habitat one should be within sight."

The Asari shot her ward a quizzical look. "I thought you were a Nutrition Resource Specialist."

"Specializing in Molecular Gastronomy," Kalla added. "Science is still paramount to what I do. Science is the pursuit of knowledge. Understanding."

The doctor put up a gloved hand. "All right," she said, looking back at the datapad. "We're in Andromeda, but we've already encountered some… difficulties."

"Difficulties?"

"I don't really know more than that," she shrugged. "I'm a doctor, not a member of leadership."

Kalla hummed her disappointment at the Asari's lack of intel. She was about to ask another question when a familiar fragrance caught her attention. The doctor turned back to her with a cup of thin liquid, the color of garnets.

"Is that Khardamine Compound?"

The doctor smiled.

Kalla snatched the glass, bringing it to her nose. "Khardamine fruit pulped and reduce to syrup." She sniffed again. "A hint of sucralose powder, and a heavy dose of solumine extract."

The Asari raised her brow.

"Contains similar properties as earth's caffeine," she explained. Kalla sniffed one more time before taking a sip. "However, is far superior in palatability." She downed the rest of the drink and sighed as she set the glass on the bedside tray.

"I'm not entirely sure you need the stimulants," the doctor quipped.

"Not a matter of need," Kalla countered. "Familiarity. Normalcy. A return to routine."

"Not to mention a mild addiction to solumine extract."

The Salarian considered her doctor for a moment, blinking her overly large, black eyes. "Work is very important," she shrugged finally. "Khardamine Compound is an agreeable method of extending working hours."

"Admit it," the doctor said, checking the datapad again. "You're addicted to energy drinks."

Kalla gasped. "Energy drink?" She gestured to the empty glass. "The Compound is not some human's overly sweet attempt to debase functional metabolisms. It's effects are much more powerful without the potentially devastating consequences of heightened blood glucose."

"I'm sorry I even mentioned it." The doctor flipped to another screen on her datapad and then smiled up at her charge. The smile was thin, and obviously taxed. "Well, Kalla Pok, you are cleared for duty. Do you remember the route to the Mess Hall?"

Kalla nodded that she did. Of course she did, it was hers after all. Her new home on the Nexus. She hopped off the bed and turned to leave the medbay, when a thought occurred to her.

"I thought I was to be in the first wave of Nutrition Resource staff raised from cryostasis."

"And you were," the doctor replied.

Kalla tilted her head and blinked, her dual eyelids unnerving the Asari just slightly. "Then who prepared the Khardamine Compound?"

The doctor smiled then, and Kalla did not like what she saw behind it. Humor. A tinge of fear. But mostly anticipation. "The mess had to be staffed to service those of us who kept the Nexus running these last six hundred years." The Asari nodded, ending the conversation, and turned to her next patient.

Kalla Pok stood in the medbay, for once legitimately confused. No Salarians would have been awake during their travel between galaxies. But who else could make Khardamine as good as that?

* * *

A Krogan. There was a Krogan standing in her kitchen. Her eyes searched the room for any evidence of damage, but instead she was surprised to find everything polished and shining.

"Don't just stand there," a deep, gravelly voice commanded. "These omelets aren't going to flip themselves!"

Kalla blinked at the hulking, rust colored mass that was the interloper. "Omelets?"

The krogan sighed, shaking his head. "A whole cryobay of hungry humans and they send me an amateur."

"Amateur?" Kall stepped further into the room.. "Amateurs don't win Sur'Kesh's highest honors in gastronomy," she paused, crossing her arms. "Twice."

"Hate to break it to ya," he said. He took a skillet by the handle and flipped a large omelet on the first try. "But this ain't Sur'Kesh." He glanced over at her. "Now either help, or get out."

She nearly suggested that he leave, seeing as it was her kitchen, when she heard the distinct clamor of a large group entering the mess. Lots of them. Her discussion with the krogan would have to wait.

So, for the first time in almost a decade, Kalla took on the role of sous chef, following the krogan's orders. Food found its way to plates, and plates to tables. Andromeda's first humans sat in the next room, eating their first meal in their new home. But where there were firsts, there were more.

She stirred another batch of pancake batter by hand at the krogan's demand. She flinched when he reached around her to delicately dip a spoon into the batter. He sampled it, hummed to himself, then turned a rusty eye to her.

"Needs more salt."

Kalla blinked. She knew Krogan weren't known for their intelligence, but more salt in a pancake batter? "Salt need only constitute five to eight percent of dry components in most standard batters." She recited it from memory.

The krogan grunted. "We don't wanna make it standard, we wanna make it right." He eyed her again and his lip curled menacingly. "Another pinch of salt," he commanded, then her looked at her delicate fingers. "'Make it two."

She looked at her hands and then at the batter. "A pinch?"

He held up two fingers.

She gazed at the giant. "You mean, approximately half a teaspoon?"

He shrugged a meaty shoulder. "Don't know. It's a pinch." He tilted his head and chuckled. "Well, a Krogan pinch."

Kalla's wide eyes bulged. "You don't measure?"

"Don't need to," he grumbled and stomped off to tend to bacon sizzling in a pan.

"Doesn't need to?" Kalla whispered in horror. She shook her head and gathered ground salt between the pads of her fingers. Carefully she dropped it into a measuring spoon, then added another 'pinch'. She smiled. "Half a teaspoon," she said with satisfaction, and then dumped the salt into the batter.

"Less measuring, more stirring," the krogan called over the pop of bacon grease.

Kalla grumbled to herself about the consistently prickly personalities of Krogan, but took the spoon in hand and worked the batter into the proper texture.

* * *

She really tried. She did. But every single plate that left the kitchen was a slap in the face. There was no artistry, no contemplation. Eggs, meats, and breads lay in haphazard heaps on the plate, appetizing only to an animal. To a krogan. And apparently to newly awoken humans. With the main rush over, she watched in awe as the humans sat with friends and family, attacking their plates with gusto.

"Unforeseen side effect of cryostasis?" She murmured, her mind buzzing with possibilities. "Increased hunger to offset sudden reactivation of metabolism?" She hummed. "Is possible."

"Huh." The krogan stepped up beside her, leaning on a counter as he watched the crowded mess hall enjoy their first meal in six hundred years. "It's also possible that it just tastes good."

Kalla ignored him. "Could be something anomalous with Andromeda galaxy. Larger scale, potentially devastating effects."

The krogan barked a laugh beside her. "That's it. Andromeda makes humans glut themselves." He crossed his arms. "That's much more believable than a Krogan who can actually cook."

She hummed and scratched at her right horn. "Almost," she admitted. "However there's much more evidence that you are a good cook."

The krogan stared at her.

"Who are you?" She asked, finally.

"I could ask you the same," he said. "Striding in like you own the place." He shook his head. "Takes a quad, and I've never met a worm that had a set."

Kalla stared at him, registering the slur. She pulled herself to her full height, which neared the krogan's, though he had the bulk of a shuttle in comparison. "Kalla Pok, Nutrition Resource Specialist." She smirked, her thin lips taking up most of her chin. "And as far as the Initiative is concerned, I do own this place."


	3. Wreav 2

A/N: Hi all! I just wanted to pop in and say thanks to those of you who have liked/followed/reviewed. It's always awesome to know people out there enjoy what you write. I also wanted to give you a little background about this story. It started out as a challenge, after I explained what Krogan are to a friend of mine who's never played the games. Known for our strange, spiraling conversations, it didn't take long for this one to turn into a challenge about a Krogan pastry chef who falls for a Salarian molecular gastronome. It's a strange and hilarious concept that my brain couldn't let go of, so here we are!

Also, fair warning that this chapter does have some spoilers for Andromeda. There's nothing new here that wasn't in the EA Early Access, but if you're trying to keep yourself pure for tomorrow (or Thursday for you folks in the UK, EU, and AUS) then you might want to wait on this one until you're past the first six hours or so.

Again, thanks to you all, and I hope you enjoy this strange little tale I'm spinning.

~HIMluv

* * *

Wreav stepped toward the Salarian, his snarling face inches from hers. "Like hell you do. I've spent the last three hundred years here, you amphibious twig."

"Yes," she nodded. "A wonder more repairs aren't necessary."

"You have a problem with how I run my kitchen?"

The Salarian leaned back against the counter, smug. "Not. Your. Kitchen." Her face was frustratingly devoid of fear. Maybe Wreav had lost his touch after all his hours spent baking.

"We'll see what Kesh has to say about that." He stormed past her, shoving the lanky Salarian out of his way. He growled when she didn't even have the decency to fall or cry out.

"By all means," she said as he passed, straightening her blue and white Andromeda Initiative uniform. "Superintendent will put a quick end to this foolishness."

Wreav growled again, louder, when the Salarian fell into step beside him. "What? Can't find her office on your own?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Prefer to see your disappointment in person."

If Wreav hadn't been so angry, he might have laughed. It took guts to talk to any krogan that way, let alone one as obviously experienced as he was. He wore his scars with pride, and enjoyed the discomfort they brought to those that looked upon them. But this Salarian seemed only mildly annoyed by his presence, not alarmed. It pissed him off. "The only disappointment you'll be witnessing is yours, when Kesh sets things straight and tells you there's been a reassignment of that mess hall."

"Not possible," she said. "No reason. Even if your… services were required during flight, am here now." She chuckled, and Wreav felt his ire rise. "She will not prefer your attempts over my own expertise."

"Awful cocky for someone who just woke up." He shot a glare at the tall figure beside him. "Maybe things have changed."

"Perhaps," the Salarian conceded, tilting her head. "But were that the case, the doctor would not have suggested I return to my kitchen."

Wreav didn't have a response to that, other than to curse Asari doctors and their damn helpful natures. They marched on through the Nexus, Wreav's heavy strides laborious in comparison to the swaggering steps of his unwanted companion. They reached the Operations deck, and the Salarian paused on the stair leading to Kesh's office.

"What?" Wreav called to her. "Suddenly afraid to be alone with two krogan?"

"Something wrong," she mumbled, her eyes darting around the deck. "Should be busy. Flight crew. Science officers." She spun, searching for the personnel she mentioned. "Where is Leadership? Should be here, directing work."

"Huh." Wreav looked around, only now noticing the vacant workstations and empty chairs. The Salarian was right. Where was everyone? Wreav got that tingling feeling in his fingers again, the itch to wrap his hands around a big gun.

"Weapons," she said, hopping the stairs two at a time to stand beside him. "Need weapons." She turned to him. "Surely you're armed."

He stared at her a moment, then shrugged. "I'm krogan. I _am_ a weapon."

She just looked at him, her large black eyes blank. To Wreav all Salarians' eyes were unnerving, but this female seemed particularly devoid of emotion. It unsettled him, and challenged him to try and spark a hint of something there. Preferably fear, but he'd settle for anger.

She sighed, "fine." She waved for him to follow. "Will scout ahead. You follow, but be quiet."

"I weigh half a ton!" He protested. "Hard to be quiet when each step weighs one hundred kilos."

"Shouting about it is counter productive." She hunched, her legs bending to bring her tall frame out of any potential line of fire, and then moved toward Nakmor Kesh's office.

Wreav shook his head, but followed her. He didn't crouch though. He was too bulky, and there was no point. If there'd been a station-wide emergency, the alarms would be sounding. They reached the door, and though both Kalla and Wreav attempted to open it, the mechanism refused.

"I wondered when someone would make it up here," Kesh said from behind them.

Wreav spun, startled by the female's quiet approach. Kalla rose from her crouch with much more grace.

The Superintendent crossed her arms. "Didn't think it'd be you two." She walked past them and keyed the entry to her office. "I thought for sure I'd get a call to come down and forcibly separate you two after you fought over the cryobay mess."

"'That's why we're here," Wreav started.

"'Where is Nexus staff?" Kalla interrupted. "Jien Garson? Should have been first to wake from cryostasis."

Kesh looked between the Salarian and the Krogan. She sighed. "Not out here." She motioned for them to follow into her office, and made certain the door shut behind them. Wreav made a point to cut off Kalla's entrance, forcing her to let his bulk through first. He grinned at her brief exasperated expression. Now he was getting somewhere.

Nakmor Kesh rounded her desk and stood behind it, scrolling through her terminal distractedly. "What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this office." She looked at them each in turn. "Am I understood?" Perhaps it was something instinctive, but her rough, low voice compelled Wreav to nod his agreement. The Salarian wasn't so quick to obey.

"Why?" She blinked. "Something happened to critical staff," she murmured. "Critical failure to stasis chambers? Potential malfunction in algorithms that sustained atmosphere in certain wards?" Kalla brought her focus back to the office and stared at Kesh. "How many?"

Kesh groaned. "We knew the risks when we left the Milky Way. We knew this was a one way trip, and that we'd have to deal with whatever we encountered out here on our own."

"Yes, yes," Kalla interrupted with a wave of her hand. "Initiative instituted Pathfinder teams to assess potential threats and verify habitat viability." She cleared her throat. "Does not account for missing key personnel."

"Andromeda has already proved… difficult," Kesh said. "We hit an unknown phenomena, it killed main power to several sectors of the station." She looked up from her datapad, and Wreav felt his stomach drop down to his quad. "Power was cut suddenly to the cryobay containing the top seven members of Leadership." She sighed, leaning her hands on the desk. "Including Jien Garson."

He stared at the Superintendent. He'd come to respect Kesh in the 300 years he'd spent on the Nexus. Hell, he'd even considered breeding with her, but after some serious discussion, they'd both agreed that until the Genophage was cured, there'd be no point. He liked to think that he knew her better than most, but the look that clouded her face now was foreign to him. He'd never seen her so… defeated.

"Jarun Tann," Kalla said a moment later.

"What?" Wreav asked. He looked to Kesh for clarification, but she wouldn't meet his glance.

"Jarun Tann," she repeated.

"Who's that?"

Kesh took a deep breath, her displeasure evident in the curl of her lip. "He's the new Director of the Andromeda Initiative." She smiled, and it was a grim, fearful thing. "Recently promoted. So recent, he doesn't even know it yet." She snorted. "We're pulling him from cryo now."

"Salarian. Formerly head of finance," Kalla provided for Wreav.

"A banker?" He asked.

"It's not ideal," Kesh admitted. "But protocols are clear."

"Slag protocol!" Wreav stepped toward her, anger boiling up. "We've taken casualties and damage. We need someone with knowledge and power. A leader, not an over-glorified accountant." He lowered his voice, "the Nexus is yours Kesh. Would you relinquish her so quickly?" He shot Kalla a glare. "'And to a Salarian?"

Kesh smiled sadly at him. "'Oh, Wreav. You are krogan, through and through."

For the first time he didn't find that complimentary.

"The Nexus has been in Andromeda for less than five hours, and already she's limping," she said, speaking loud enough for the both of them. "Now is not the time for power struggles and petty squabbles. If we don't work together, things could turn ugly and fast."

Her datapad pinged, and she turned her attention to it. "Tann's waking up," she said. "I have to go and tell him of his promotion." The krogan made to leave, but before she made it to the door Kalla blocked her path.

"Superintendent," she said. "What of my kitchen?"

Kesh growled, her frustration and exhaustion finally showing. "Pok, I had you pulled from cryo because I very much fear that resources could be limited in our near future. You're our chief Nutrition Resource Specialist. But if you think I have time to iron out this pissing contest between you and Wreav, you have overestimated my esteem in you." She glared at each of them. "Work it out," she barked. "You just might be surprised what you can accomplish if you work together."

Kesh didn't give them another moment of her time, and exited the office. Kalla stood gaping after the Superintendent, her wide, dark eyes blinking repeatedly.

"Huh," Wreav snorted. Shock, that's what that expression was. Granted, he thought Salarians always looked a bit surprised, but he was pleased to see some sort of emotion on the worm's face. He approached her and clapped her on the back. "C'mon, Pok," he said with forced cheer. "We've got a kitchen to clean."


End file.
